(*quick notes about the setting, etc. are at the bottom of the first chapter, if you're interested*)

Chapter 1: A Bitter Morning

"Sorry I'm late, I got stuck behind the slowest car on the way here," Mary said breathlessly as she strode into the sun-filled dining room, running one hand through her freshly styled hair and smoothing her impeccably pressed grey pencil skirt with the other.

"Oh nonsense, dear," her mother, Cora, said warmly, getting up to hug her in greeting. "Come and eat, we've only just started and I left a plate for you here." She gestured to a chair near the head of the long table, between Mary's sister, Edith, and her father, Robert. Mary sat and pulled out her napkin, draping it carefully over her lap.

"I almost killed someone on the way over here, I was so impatient," Mary complained as Cora sat back down across from her. "Everyone was driving as if they had all the time in the world, I could hardly believe it. It's a Monday morning, shouldn't people be hurrying in to work? Not driving at a snail's pace down Abbey Avenue. Pass the coffee, Edith," she said impatiently, pointing at the coffee pot in front of Edith.

"It's just breakfast, quit whining. Besides, you're not hurrying in to work, are you?" Edith said as she reached over and set the coffee pot down rather brusquely on the table, closer to Mary but still far enough away that Mary had to stretch for it.

"Well, Edie, I wouldn't expect you to understand. After all, it's just a short walk from here upstairs to your room, isn't it?" Mary replied snidely, pouring herself a steaming cup of coffee and glaring at Edith over the rim as she blew on it gently to cool it. Edith glared back. Hardly the closest of sisters, Mary never lost an opportunity to mock Edith about living at home. Not that Mary was really much more independent: Mary's swanky apartment was only a few miles away and was mostly paid for by her share of the trust fund. Monday morning breakfasts, which had been a tradition in the Crawley family ever since the girls were little, were almost always filled with bickering between Mary and Edith, and yet Mary never missed a breakfast. She believed in tradition, and besides, it was one of the only times now that she got to see her whole family together, especially since her father had become Governor. He was usually so busy with legislative meetings and political functions and state dinners that she almost never had the chance to see him, except for these Monday morning breakfasts. And even then, it barely seemed to matter. Robert, seated at the head of the table, had hardly noticed when Mary had come in and was instead turned away from her, deep in conversation with Mary's youngest sister, Sybil. Mary glanced over at him as she spread butter on a slice of French toast.

"...incredible, really, I can't believe how quickly he's gotten settled and he's just brilliant, so energetic, I'm telling you, stealing him from that local campaign office in Lowell was the best thing I've done..." Robert was saying to Sybil, waving his fork in the air in enthusiasm. Mary looked to Sybil's grinning, surprised face and then back to Robert.

"What's that you're talking about, Dad?" Mary asked curiously. It was Sybil who answered.

"Dad's just hired a new speechwriter. Apparently, he's quite the find..."

"A new speechwriter?" Mary said, trying to keep her tone neutral. Just a month ago, she had suggested some changes to some of her father's talking points and offered to draft a new speech on local government aid for him...and he had thanked her but blown her off, reminding her that he had a speechwriter to deal with it, and that she shouldn't bother herself worrying about such things. So what was her father doing hiring a new speechwriter now?

"Mary, you've just got to meet him," Robert gushed, turning towards Mary, completely unaware of the burning resentment clouding Mary's dark brown eyes. "I was down meeting with the mayor of Lowell – Bernie, you remember Bernie, he's up for reelection this year – but anyways, it was at this city convention, just the usual political stuff, fundraising, you know, and he tells me I've got to meet his Press Relations staffer because he's absolutely brilliant and he's got a real knack for writing speeches. Well, I met him, and I was completely blown away. He's the nicest man, and he's perfect for politics, really, he's got that rare blend of intelligence and charm. I knew he was good because I stuck around for Bernie's speech, which he wrote, of course, and it was inspired – and usually Bernie's speeches are so dull. I asked around about him after, too, and everyone said he's becoming quite well known in the local campaign circuit."

Mary smiled thinly as her father went on excitedly about this new speechwriter. As any politician had to be, Robert was naturally energetic and friendly, but rarely had Mary seen him this animated. Certainly he never spoke about her that way.

"Well, of course, I had to have him after that. I offered him the job, knowing that it was a risk, but he's been working with my staff for a few weeks now, and I'm so thrilled. Everyone loves him, and his work has been exceptional. He's young, too, a real wunderkind. I wouldn't be surprised to see him in elected office in a few years." Mary raised her eyebrows.

"Grant, you said his name was?" Sybil added. Robert nodded.

"Yes, Grant. Matthew Grant."

"How interesting," Mary said, trying to sound nonchalant. She set her fork down gently on her still-full plate, her appetite gone.

"I've invited him to dinner with us Friday night, at Le Briola? You still coming, aren't you?" Mary nodded distractedly, looking down at her plate. "Are you planning on bringing Patrick, by the way? I forgot." Mary looked up at Robert again, annoyance welling up inside her.

"Of course not. Patrick and I broke up ages ago, remember? Honestly," she snapped.

"Shame. I liked Patrick; he was nice." Edith broke in, sipping her orange juice quietly. Mary barely glanced at her.

"He was dull," Mary replied flatly.

"It's probably for the best. You two were so different, weren't you," Edith said, her tone clearly suggesting that this was more a condemnation of Mary than it was of Patrick. Mary didn't deign to respond, but simply rolled her eyes and stood, dropping her napkin onto the table.

"Well, I'll be off then. I'm already running late. I'm planning on popping by the campaign office quickly to drop off the new polling numbers, I thought about emailing it but I've already told them I'm coming in this morning. Need me to do anything else while I'm there?" Mary worked in the Massachusetts Attorney General's Office in the Policy and Government division, but she was a regular visitor to Robert's campaign offices. She was there almost as much as Robert, who split his time between the campaign offices and his governor's offices in the capital building. But Robert shook his head.

"No, everything seems to be running smoothly. You might see Matthew there though, I wanted him to meet the campaign staff soon and I think he was planning on going today." Mary opened her mouth to respond, a sarcastic remark just on the tip of her tongue, but Robert had already gone back to his breakfast and was now discussing an upcoming dinner fundraiser with Cora. Mary turned on her heel, and with a quick goodbye directed towards Edith, stalked out of the dining room, her smart black heels clicking angrily on the expensive wooden floors.

(Notes: This is a modern AU about Matthew and Mary. I tried to keep most characters true to the original, but I did make Robert slightly more annoying and neglectful of Mary for purposes of the story. I also changed Matthew's last name because having them be cousins in a modern AU is kind of gross - his last name in this fic is Grant (based on Grantham). I also use nicknames- Edie for Edith, Rob for Robert, and Matt for Matthew. The setting is modern-day Boston in Massachusetts, USA. I'm sorry I couldn't keep them British, but I'm not British, and I know nothing about British politics, and I wanted Mary's father to be a political figure. There are a few factual errors which I included on purpose to make the story more clear - for example, the Massachusetts state capital is actually called the State House, but I refer to it as the Capital.